


For Brother Dearest

by rosedarkling



Series: A Family Affair [2]
Category: Deep-Sea Prisoner, Mogeko, Okegom, funamusea, 廃れ夢 | Obsolete Dream, 海底囚人, 海底囚人 | Deep-Sea Prisoner, 灰色庭園 | Haiiro Teien | The Gray Garden
Genre: Blackmail, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Bondage, CURSED FIC, Chains, Help!, Kidnapping, Other, Psychological Trauma, Run!, Torture, Trauma, why are you here?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:26:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27604163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedarkling/pseuds/rosedarkling
Summary: The love for a brother knows no bounds. Everything that belongs to the one, belongs to the other.
Series: A Family Affair [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015962
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	For Brother Dearest

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most cursed fic I have written. Fumus has never interacted with Licorice that I am aware of, but in my messed-up mind, I can imagine this man doing whatever he pleases with anything of Satanick's - including his child/children. 
> 
> Yes, it is canonically known that Fumus does not like or care about kids or anything other than his creations and Satanick. However, if he needs an upper hand over Satanick, what better way to distress the man than have something like this? Yeah, that's my messy thought process for ya. 
> 
> Anywho, don't @ me, bro! XD But, seriously, let me know your thoughts and what could be done better. Perhaps I shall add a final one shot to this series? Maybe how Satanick reacts to this? We shall see. ;) 
> 
> Love and blessings to you, my beautiful people! <3

Morning.

Well, Licorice assumed it was morning. After all, he had just woken up. He felt a bit groggier than usual, which he found a bit unsettling. He thought he had slept well enough, but apparently not. As he opened his eyes, he felt something brush against his eyelashes, which he found peculiar. Was it his bed sheets? No; those were white. So why was he seeing nothing but black? Perhaps it wasn’t morning after all.

As Licorice went to rub a hand down his face to help clear some of the fog away from his mind, the tug on his wrists soon had him realizing that the suspicious circumstances upon his waking were truly unusual, and for good reason. As Licorice’s eyes widened behind whatever was blocking his vision, another attempt at getting his hands and arms to comply soon filled him with a sinking feeling in his gut. The more that the dread settled in, the more it spurred the young man wide awake as he realized his arms were stretched above his head, his wrists locked in shackles as chains held him tautly to some sort of ceiling. Now that he thought about it, he realized he was also standing upright, though his ankles were also bound in shackles and chains.

 _What is the meaning of this?!_ his mind screamed at him.

Licorice went to open his mouth to call for help – perhaps Mother was nearby – only to find something like a cloth of some sort jammed between his teeth and tongue, muffling him.

No!

No, no, no, no!

This wasn’t happening!

Licorice wrenched at his bonds, trying to free himself from them, immediately grunting and cursing behind the gag as he used all the strength he could muster to pull and tug. The harder he tried, the weaker he felt with this exertion. He could already feel his mind becoming hazy once more as he began to feel his body bead with sweat and his limbs ache from the minor straining. Why was he feeling so weak?

_Just what is this?!_

As Licorice tried to process what was happening while simultaneously release himself, he pondered just who in the world had put him in such a precarious position. Was it that filthy goat demon of his father’s once more?! Licorice growled in the back of his throat remembering his father’s right hand man. Once before, Envi had fought with Licorice, resulting in the young man paying a heavy price. Behind the dark blindfold around Licorice’s head, his eyes narrowed as he gritted his teeth on the cloth gag. Surely this must be Envi’s doing; after all, he was the only one that Licorice could think of that would do such a thing to him based on their past interactions.

But why now? Why would Envi do this out of the blue?

Well, not that the "why" really mattered at this point; right now, all that mattered was Licorice freeing himself to get his hands on the culprit.

The clinking and rattling of the chains, the heavy breathing through his nostrils, and the sound of Licorice’s bare feet on the soft floor was the only sounds echoing throughout this place.

Wait, soft?

The more that his senses were coming back to him, Licorice realized that his feet were being met with that of a carpet or rug of some sort. That narrowed down the list of possibilities of being in some sort of dungeon, but it did not quite help the young man determine where he exactly was being held captive. If it was surely a cellar of some sort, it boggled his mind why a rug or carpeting would be present in such a place. After all, why make a prisoner comfortable? That only further confused the young man as he tried to rationalize why Envi – or whoever this was – would try to make this experience any better for him.

Continuing to wrench and struggle, Licorice barely heard the sound of rustling. When it did register, Licorice immediately tensed up and froze. The sound had come from somewhere in front of him, but he had not heard anyone enter this space.

That meant whoever the sick fuck was that was keeping him here had been watching him since his waking!

Trepidation began to course through every fiber of Licorice’s being, while also igniting a fire inside of him. He would make Envi pay for this! There was no way he would allow this sick man to do as he pleased. Already growling in the back of his throat, Licorice did his best to curse at the perpetrator, screaming out a very garbled, “You bastard!”

The chuckle that Licorice then heard had his blood running cold. The voice…. The tone….

This wasn’t Envi after all.

The young man’s eyes enlarged behind the blindfold, shaking a bit in fear at the unknown. Just who was this?

More importantly…what did they want from him?

The man with the dark gray hair mindlessly flipped through a book lying flat open on his wooden table. His elbow rested on the surface as he propped his chin in his left palm. With the part in his hair more towards the left, the blood red undertones to his hair stood out amongst his dimly lit room. Even with the little light in the room and his gray eyes scanning the pages, no progress was being made, let alone understood in what he was reading. If anything, the god was becoming a bit bored waiting for his new toy to wake. Looking back on it now, he supposed that he should not have injected him with so much of the drug. Well, he could not quite be sure how much to give such a devil; the boy did have two forms, after all. Be that as it may, Fumus was pleased with the results. It was quite effective immediately when the god had appeared in that horribly hot and decrepit Flame Underworld. He honestly would have much preferred to have stolen the boy away from Satanick’s castle – he was more familiar with the layout of that place from having been there quite a bit. A good older brother did well to always check in on the younger one.

Nonetheless, Fumus found it quite easy to navigate the realm of that underworld and manifest himself into the room of the sleeping boy. Upon seeing the child resting in his child form – ironically, enough – Fumus had watched the small thing breathe peacefully as he clutched at a stuffed rabbit plush. Fumus could not help but roll his eyes at such a thing. He suspected who had given such a familiar looking object to the boy. Fumus quietly yet quickly approached the edge of the bed where Licorice slept blissfully unaware of what was to come.

Syringe at the ready, Fumus placed a hand over the child’s mouth as he stabbed the drug into the left-hand side of the boy’s neck, pushing the plunger down with his right thumb. A cry immediately erupted from the boy, his large yellow-orange eyes flying open. It had taken him a moment to focus after having been awoken in such a cruel manner, but soon the form of the child transformed into that of a young man. Fumus found all of it quite amusing, to be honest; the son of two devils who was able to switch between two variations while still maintaining the properties of whatever form he was in. If anything, that just made Fumus’s job easier; the child would not remember him, and if the adult tried, the drug would soon take care of that for him, as well, thanks to its ability to help the “patient” forget. Fumus first felt the grip on his left wrist as the young man glared daggers at him as he reacted to fight back against him. However, it was too late, as the man’s eyes began to droop closed once more as Fumus’s own eyes glowed a bright violet. The rest had been a mere breeze to grab the boy and truss him up back in Fumus’s private chambers.

It paid to be the god over an entire realm. No one would dare disturb him lest they face his wrath.

Smirking to himself, Fumus first heard the rattling of the chains, followed up by the moaning and groaning of his slumbering victim as he stirred. Fumus first raised his eyes and soon his head as he watched the tall devil squirm in his bonds. Fumus had debated if all of this was too much, but he soon shrugged that off. It was more fun this way; besides, it was for the best for the boy to experience as much fear as possible; it was no fun if there was no horror to be had. 

Sitting up straight, Fumus uncrossed his legs as he soon rose from his chair, shutting the book closed with his left hand in a mild thump. He couldn’t help but grin when Licorice froze for a moment to stare in his direction – well, “stare” being the operative word since looking was off limits thanks to the black blindfold he had placed over the boy’s eyes. A chuckle soon escaped Fumus’s lips as he watched Licorice attempt to curse him out behind the gag. So, this one was going to be a big feisty, Fumus presumed. It sickened him to imagine that this brat was the culmination of his brother and that lowly lizard, though it did make for an interesting combination of being that now stood unwillingly before him.

Well, now that the boy was awake, the experimenting could begin.

With a mischievous grin across his lips, Fumus strode forward over to where Licorice was stationed a few inches in front of the back wall. He must have heard Fumus approaching, as the boy began to wrench even harder at his bonds, grunting all the while. Now directly in front of him, Fumus could get a good look at the man’s features. Yes, they were a bit unnoticeable with the gag in his mouth and blindfold around his head, but Fumus could see how both the features of his dear brother and that lizard were present. The horns atop of Licorice’s head resembled the shape and texture of Ivlis’s, but the color and slight curl to them definitely spoke of Satanick. Even the facial features was a perfect blend of them….

Disgusting.

Reaching forward, Fumus reached up a bit to grab ahold of Licorice’s chin roughly in his left palm, dragging the boy’s face down to his eye level. Only a tiny bit taller than him, Fumus found it just as ironic that Licorice was the same height as his favorite head angel. How perfect; Fumus knew exactly how to work with that height difference to make such a tall man bend to his will.

The young man grunted as his neck was yanked down, and he could only assume that he was now face to face with the man. With him being so close to him, Licorice could smell the distinctive odor of smoke emanating from his kidnapper, along with the fragrance of what could be coffee, though Licorice was not fully sure of this. As Licorice tried to keep his senses focused on what was around him – perhaps he would be given some clue as to who this individual was and where he had been taken –Licorice flinched upon feeling the man’s other hand now touching near his mouth. Disgusted by this, Licorice tried to squirm out of his grip, soon to feel relief when the cloth was plucked from his mouth. Fresh air was now flowing back into Licorice’s mouth as he gasped in, hating to feel the trail of his own spittle dribble down his chin as the wet garment was tossed aside.

His mouth was free to rest, but that did not stop Licorice from immediately spewing venomous words at this person. “Who are you?! What the hell do you want from me?!”

A chill traveled down his spine upon hearing a deep laugh from the man in front of him. It was deep enough that Licorice felt as if he could feel it vibrate in his own chest as the man kept him perched just where he wanted him. It was when he began to speak to him that Licorice found himself intently focused on the voice of this man. Just who was he? Licorice could not recall ever hearing his voice before, yet it somehow bore a strong resemblance to one he thought he knew….

“My, my. What a strong vocabulary you have, Licorice. I wonder where you could have picked that up from, hmm.”

Was he seriously mocking him now? Licorice gritted his teeth together, feeling already sickened by this condescending attitude. “Don’t patronize me,” he snarled. “I asked who you are. Tell m – ah!” Licorice’s sentence ended in a slightly pained and agitated gasp as Fumus’s nails dug into the skin of his chin.

Fumus grinned maliciously, though unbeknownst to Licorice. This was going to be even more fun than he had anticipated.

Fumus had known about Licorice for quite some time, though he personally never met the boy. That is, until one day he had decided to stop by for a surprise visit to “congratulate” Satanick on the new child. Of course, Licorice had no recollection of this. After all, he had been just an infant. It still pleased Fumus to imagine the look of abject horror on Satanick’s face to find him holding his precious son that day. Time had passed in a blur – as was the norm of eternal beings – and the babe had grown.

Time was a commodity that could be wasted for such immortals, yet Fumus had grown bored with the monotony of everyday life. Sure, it was pleasant enough in his paradise, but he found himself missing something; a spark of “madness” to his mundane. As Fumus continued his usual godhead duties and fun with his angels, he soon realized that he had not quite seen enough of a certain color in his realm. Yes, red was a lovely shade, but so was purple.

Satanick had not been visiting him recently. In fact, he seemed too preoccupied with this new “family” of his, or so he called it. Fumus only cared for little in his life – his creations and his little brother; to know that one of those things was becoming distant greatly bothered the god. Of course, Fumus could easily correct Satanick on this; he had trained him well enough over the decades to become obedient to him. But each time he would teach Satanick to comply once more, it seemed to take longer and longer. It was not as if Fumus did not like a challenge. In fact, it thrilled him to see that Satanick was almost building a tolerance to the correction; all the better for Fumus to try out even more diabolic methods on his dear younger brother.

Yet for all the torture methods Fumus had tried, he had not dabbled nearly enough into the psychological realm. What better way to have the upper hand over him than to use those whom Satanick cared for? The lizard might suffice, but Fumus realized that there was an even better candidate nearby, and one that looked just like Fumus’s most favorite possession in the world.

With a grin still on his face, Fumus looked over his left shoulder back to the circular wooden table in his room. Not much lie on its surface except the book he had been reading, a black ashtray filled to the brim with discarded cigarette butts, and an equally black camcorder that sat with its screen filled open to record the proceedings. A cocky grin showed Fumus’s pointed teeth as he couldn’t help but smile for the camera. He hoped that the footage would invoke enough of a volatile and pained reaction from Satanick, should he ever decide to use it against him. Blackmail in this form would be quite the fun realm to explore. 

Fumus could have always approached the boy in the typical fashion that a good uncle should have, but that was boring. Yes, Fumus wanted to use this against his disobedient brother, but Fumus secretly wanted to see just how this man that resembled Satanick would comply. Just how would he react to being subjected to even the tiniest bit of discomfort? Would he first cry and beg for mercy like Satanick did when he had first started their sessions together? Or would this boy soon become accustomed to such things, like the masochist that Fumus had trained Satanick to be? In a way, Fumus could not help but be ecstatic at this brand new possibility.

Seeing that the red light of the camcorder was on to indicate that it was still working, Fumus turned back towards Licorice to begin the fun.

Releasing Licorice’s chin, Licorice hissed in through his teeth as he felt the air stinging at the markings the man had left behind. Still unable to see, Licorice could only listen in as he heard the man walking away from him for a moment. Whatever he was up to, Licorice was not going to stick around to find out. He continued to tug and pull at the chains, listening above the clinking to hear the man rummaging around somewhere for something. Licorice’s heart began to pound even more in his chest as he feared what was to come. He had already been subjected to torture from Envi once before thanks to a fight that he lost at, and he did not want to imagine what this stranger was capable of. Was it possible he could have been hired by someone like Envi to do this to him? He hated thinking about that goat at a time like this, but Licorice could not imagine who else would be behind such a thing like this. He tried to recall how he even got into this situation, but everything remained a blur in his mind, his head pounding anytime he tried to piece together the missing parts of his memory.

Hearing the man’s shoes shuffling across the carpeting once more back towards him, Licorice swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat as he tried to reason with this unknown lunatic. Gathering his saliva back into his now dry mouth, Licorice managed to choke out, “Wh – Who do you work for?”

Fumus couldn’t help but laugh at such an ignorant question. That stupidity could certainly be from his father, but Fumus suspected it was from that airheaded "mother" of his. Deciding to play along with him, Fumus replied, “I’m my own boss, Licorice.” His right hand now held a pair of long, sharp scissors dangling from his thumb and index finger, and he slowly brought it up, placing the sharp, cool tips to Licorice’s left cheek. Immediately, the devil tensed up, and Fumus could hear him suck his breath in. “And you are my prey for the evening.” Retracting his fingers apart to spread the sharp blades open, a thin trail of blood began to trickle down the young man’s face. Even without much pressure at all, the keen blades were already doing their job.

Feeling the blood trickle down his cheek, Licorice tensed up even more as he went to turn his face away. “S – Stop it!” he screamed out. His blood ran cold as he began to realize that even without the knowledge of who this was, Licorice knew that this man was not to be trifled with. Still, Licorice found it hard to control his temper at such an unfair situation. “Let me go, you piece of – !” Licorice’s voice stopped in his throat as his mouth hung open in a silent cry, stopping his vitriolic words. The scissors that had previously been placed against his cheek was now being plunged into his left side. The first initial sting hurt, but the further it went into his body, the pain became intense. Warm, hot blood gushed through his long-sleeve white shirt and down his leg, soaking into his black pants and the floor below his bare feet. Feeling the blades slicing being rotated in his flesh, tendons, and muscles, Licorice couldn’t hold back the tears that inevitably sprang into his eyes. Finally, he was able to scream just when Fumus quickly removed them.

Fumus smiled seeing and hearing how this one screamed. Even the boy’s pain sounded like Satanick’s….

This was already off to a wonderful start. Now that he was able to get Licorice nice and warmed up with a tiny bit of physical pain, he could begin the second course. Fumus reveled in seeing the black blindfold start to become wet as the boy’s tears soaked through it. Gritting his teeth, the boy sniffed back his cries as he tried to hold back a cough, a bit of blood trickling from the right-hand corner of his mouth.

Perfect.

Fumus stepped over towards Licorice’s right hand side, making sure he was somewhat out of the way so the camera could fully focus on Licorice. With his left hand, Fumus reached out to wipe at Licorice’s lip with his thumb, causing the boy to shudder at his touch.

Just like Satanick….

Grinning, Fumus leaned in to whisper into the boy’s pointed ear as he raised the bloody thumb to his own mouth to lick at the blood. “What’s wrong, Licorice? I thought you were a bit tougher than this.” With the coppery taste still lingering in his mouth, Fumus reached out to yank on Licorice’s ponytail, tilting his head back. With his neck snapped back so abruptly, the young man yelped out at the roughness.

Licorice couldn’t hold back the noises he made as he was forced into this uncomfortable position. His neck craned backward, his throat stretched, and the hairs of his head were being roughly pulled. “Ghh,” he croaked out, hating the tang of blood in his own mouth as he still felt the sting and pulsing of the wound above his left hip. “St – Stop!” Licorice groaned out. "I mean it!" 

Fumus simply ignored the cries, wanting to see how the boy would fair with a bit of “foreplay.” With the dripping scissors, Fumus began opening and closing them in a snipping motion, though the clotting of the blood on the blades was beginning to make them stick together a bit more. Finding the bottom edge of Licorice’s white shirt, Fumus began snipping at the seams. He knew right away when the boy felt the first inkling of true fear when Licorice began to tremble in his grasp. While Fumus continued to slide the scissors through the fabric into strips, the god yanked even harder on Licorice’s hair as the follicles stretched even further, causing the man to gasp in pain. 

Good. Fumus loved to see the young man shiver, yet he could also see the determination to not further cry out. Fumus watched Licorice’s face; the wet blindfold, the sweat beading on his forehead, the streak of pink by his lip from the blood, the gritting of his teeth as he choked back his humiliation – all of it. Yes, this was enjoyable enough. Nevertheless, Fumus still did not find as much satisfaction in this as he had originally imagined. However, visualizing the miserable look of despair on Satanick’s face should he ever need to use this leverage against him spurred Fumus on. Finally finished shredding the front of Licorice’s garment, Fumus released his ponytail to slide behind the man to start doing so along his back. 

Licorice couldn’t stand this! His side ached, but now a feeling of disgust washed over him as he felt shame coursing through his veins. Sick; he felt like he was going to vomit. This man was cutting at his clothing…. What was he going to do to him? Licorice detested the possibilities. This was so unsettling!

Filthy!

Dirty!

Licorice couldn’t take it. Not again…. Not again….

A gasp escaped his lips as he found himself straightening up and practically jumping when he felt the man slip behind him, now pressing his body up against him. That dark laugh in his right ear had Licorice shaking once more, only to now freeze up when Fumus’s left hand splayed out on his chest. He hated this man’s hands on him, his fingertips touching his skin through parts of his tattered white shirt. “You – You sick freak!” Licorice yelped out, hating that his voice sounded so pathetic right now. “Don’t touch me!”

Fumus continued his fun, digging his black-painted nails into the boy’s skin as he continued to shred at the garment, the white now becoming pink thanks to the clotting blood. Fumus now moved from Licorice’s right ear to his left, placing his pointed chin into the boy's shoulder. His deep purple eyes practically glowed as he kept his eyes on Licorice’s face. That dark hair was so reminiscent of Satanick’s, yet the way his hair parted over his left eye, showing the same red undertones like his….

“You’re the perfect legacy to the family, Licorice. Don’t disappoint me.”

That dark whisper in his ear had Licorice once more trembling. But more than that, so did the words that were spoken. What was this mad man talking about?! Legacy? Family?

“J – Just who are you?!” Licorice screamed. “What do you want from me?!” Licorice felt Fumus remove his hand from off of his chest to now roughly clamp a hand over his mouth, stifling the boy. Chills and rage flowed through his blood as he heard the man once more speaking directly into his ear.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” 

Irritated once more by the man’s condescending attitude and words, Licorice growled in his throat as he tried to free his face from the man’s rough grip. He soon froze up as he let out a muffled scream when he felt a sharp pain now in his lower back above his right hip. The bloody instrument was once more piercing through flesh, muscle, and now organs as Fumus shoved the long blades in all the way to the hilt. The warm blood gushed over his hand and down his own body, splashing onto his brown shoes. The blood that coursed through this devil might be tainted with the blood of that lizard, but it was also the direct flow of Satanick’s bloodline - of _their_ bloodline; such a realization only further delighted this god as he imagined causing pain to Satanick in a variety of ways. Fumus kept a tight grip on Licorice as the man screamed and cried underneath his palm. He couldn’t help but chuckle as this, his gaze now leaving Licorice’s face to smirk over at the camera.

What would Satanick’s face look like if he was to see this? Would he become disturbed? Enraged? Distraught? Fumus couldn’t help but fantasize about what Satanick would look like or the absolute dread that he could cause to his dear brother. Part of him immediately wanted to show this video to Satanick – to actualize the daydream playing in his mind. But, no; now was not the time. This quality footage would only be experienced when the god deemed it necessary. He hated when Satanick would not be as compliant to him as he would like on some days, yet this would surely help him to become obedient once more once daddy dearest saw what uncle Fumus was capable of to his precious son.

The pain was intense as Licorice could no longer focus on the swirling questions in his mind. All he could think about right now was the immense stabbing sensations that raced through his entire body, singularly focused on the now gaping wound in his back. Bile and waves of nausea threatened to drown him, as did darkness as black spots began to creep into his vision.

Just…what was…all of this?

Licorice did not know, nor did he think he would soon find out. The throbbing pain and feeling of hot blood running down his backside soon became a rhythm with his pulsing heart as Licorice found his eyes closing behind the wet, obscuring cloth. The pounding blood in his ears began to drown out all other senses out as numbness took over. 

_Don’t…._

With a final twist of the scissors inside of Licorice’s body, Fumus yanked them back out as the young man hollered, only soon to fade his cries into that of a whimper. Fumus could feel his tears now soaked through the blindfold and running onto his hand, along with the saliva from Licorice’s mouth. Torture was a filthy job, but one that Fumus did not mind. One would think that after so many centuries of it, he would have developed a finesse for such things. However, such a thing was laughable to the god. Why skillfully craft a method when one could be as brutal as they pleased? As blood continued to stream out of Licorice’s wounds – the one in the back being the most prominent thanks to how Fumus had retracted the object – he noticed Licorice’s body begin to hang loosely in the chains. His tightly clenched fists now opened up as his hands hung limply down and his head lolled forward.

“Ah,” Fumus commented as he slowly slid his hand off of Licorice’s face. “Did you pass out?” The mocking tone in his voice spoke of one that lacked any concern whatsoever. Of course, the boy did not respond. Fumus could not help but laugh now as he pulled away from the unconscious man. “Really? That’s your limit?" he commented. "Pathetic.”

Walking around his victim, Fumus now faced the dangling form of his nephew while standing off towards the boy’s right. His long black ponytail hung down his back, though some strands of hair had become loosened and now stuck to his soppy face. Through parted lips, Fumus could hear the boy’s breathing. Of course he knew that this would not kill the boy; that had never been his intention. All Fumus had been after was suffering – pure, unadulterated affliction that he could cause his stubborn little brother.

Letting the scissors drop from his fingers, Fumus approached the boy once more, this time reaching his hand out to gently place his hand between those curled, purple horns. Even with his chin resting on his chest, Fumus could still make out the faint bits of red in the boy’s parted section of his hair. Fumus now found his fingers drifting to that spot to fiddle with the strands. His left hand now reached behind Licorice’s head to finagle the knot undone so the black cloth now dropped down. Of course, the boy’s eyelids were shut in slumber, yet Fumus could still picture the fright and defiance in them from when he first had stolen him away.

Ah, that defiance; how he loved to break down the wills of those he deemed worthy enough.

Staring at the red undertones once more, Fumus gave a somewhat soft yet mischievous smile. “Perhaps next time you’ll bend even more for me.” Whether he was speaking directly to Licorice or indirectly to Satanick, Fumus was not fully sure. Well, he supposed it did not matter either way. After all, this second meeting between the relatives would never be remembered; at least, not by Licorice.

It really did pay to be the god over an entire realm. A simple wave of his hand, and Fumus could mend or break – create or erase.

Leaning forward to place a soft yet cold kiss to the top of Licorice’s head, the uncle turned on his heel to face his true victim in the form of a black camcorder. Digging into his right pocket, Fumus retrieved a cigarette and his silver flip lighter. Thankfully, the blood had not soaked through his pants too much to damage his precious nicotine; surely more punishment could be enacted for such a thing. Placing the white stick in mouth, Fumus flicked the lighter open and sparked up the flame.

As a plume of smoke slowly drifted up, Fumus walked over towards the table once more. Crouching down on his ankles, Fumus stared directly into the lens. However, what he saw instead of the clear glass was that of his brother’s phlox-colored irises that were so similar to his own glowing ones. Reaching up, Fumus plucked the cigarette from his lips as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

The smoke soon faded into thin wisps, and Fumus gave a final cocky grin to his singular audience member before reaching forward to press the button to finish the recording.

The screen soon faded to black, the final frame showing nothing but a close-up of an uncle with his dear nephew in the background. 


End file.
